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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27307687">Halloween 2020 Double Ficture</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cinlat/pseuds/Cinlat'>Cinlat</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Family Fluff, Inappropriate Humor, all live happily ever after, curious cathar, for now at least, halloween antics</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 20:07:16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,824</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27307687</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cinlat/pseuds/Cinlat</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Just a bit of fun for Halloween involving my favorite Mando trooper and her outrageous family.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aric Jorgan/Female Republic Trooper, Elara Dorne/Male Republic Trooper, Mandalorians - Relationship, Young Love - Relationship</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. A Tight Fit</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Characters: Fynta Wolfe, Balic Cormac, Aric Jorgan<br/>Rating: T<br/>Word Count: 958</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    
<p></p><div class="">
  <p>
    <strong>Nar Shaddaa <br/></strong>
    <strong>Residential Sector <br/>Apartment 215</strong>
  </p>
  <p> </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“It’s too tight. You’re going to rip it.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Aric Jorgan paused outside of his bedroom, trying to reason out why a man was in there. Once he’d placed the voice, he debated whether or not it would be wise to enter. Turning off the datapad on the latest sniper scopes, Jorgan kneaded the bridge of his nose and listened to the scuffle inside. He should be furious that Fynta would bring another man into their bedroom. The ship was one thing, but their apartment was sacred. Trust was the only thing that stayed Aric’s temper. Well, trust and an unhealthy dose of curiosity.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I am not,” Cormac grunted. “Just need to wiggle it a little more, yeah, like that.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Jorgan lifted his eyes to the ceiling, wondering if the two idiots inside had any idea what half of their conversations sounded like out of context. After years of living together as a squad, he’d come across too many instances where Fynta and Balic hatched some hair-brained plot behind a barely closed door. As if they took eavesdroppers as a challenge.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Okay, big guy,” Fynta huffed, breath airy in a way that made Jorgan’s brow lift. “One inch at a time.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I’ve only got twenty minutes before Elara gets back. Slow and steady isn’t going to cut it.” Cormac growled, then yelped. “Damn it, woman. Easy on the goods.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>A low, evil chuckle preceded Fynta’s reply. “You said that you were in a hurry.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Bracing himself, Jorgan pushed open the door to find Cormac lying on his back while Fynta stood over him, straddling his middle while she wrestled with what looked like bantha hide trousers. The big man cursed and snatched a poofy, white shirt over his bare torso with an embarrassed half-smile.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Hey, riduur,” Fynta growled while she forced the fabric over Cormac’s upright leg. “How was the meeting?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Though normally difficult to tell through his darker complexion, redness crept up Cormac’s neck and cheeks. It was impossible to flee with Fynta’s foot planted on his stomach for support, though Aric thought he might try. With a huff, she straightened. “Okay, maybe you’re not the same size as Blue.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Cormac grunted when Fynta pushed off him. She’d managed to get his foot through, but the pants had barely been worked up to his knees. “Alright, you’re on your own for the rest.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Fynta hopped down from the bed to rummage through her closet. Jorgan turned his back in an attempt to ignore Cormac’s grunts of protest while he worked the breeches further up his body.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Aric joined Fynta at her closet and leaned forward to see what she was doing. “Should I ask?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Surprise for Elara,” Fynta answered without turning from her goal. She let out a cheer, emerging with a dust-covered shoe box. Thankfully, Cormac had managed to get the pants up and was attempting to fasten them when Fynta dropped the box on the bed. “These should fit, at least. I know you wear the same size shoe.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Thanks, boss.” Balic let out a long breath when he finally secured the lower half of his outfit, then reached for the top. Jorgan pressed his lips into a tight line to avoid the smile trying to creep into place.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The sleeves that Fynta buttoned at Cormac’s wrists probably contained more fabric than the entire body of the shirt. They poofed out, made all the larger by the man’s ridiculous musculature, and cinched in around the waist to accent how uncomfortably tight those pants were. Jorgan cleared his throat and averted his gaze.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Why do you have your old mentor’s clothes in your closet?” Jorgan asked, searching for anything to distract him from all the areas his mind shouldn’t go when it came to why Cormac needed such an outfit to surprise Elara. He'd always suspected that there had been something more than platonic about her relationship with the Chiss double agent, but neither had ever broached the topic.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>When Fynta answered, Aric heard the grin in her voice.  “I stole them from his locker one night when he gave me perimeter detail as a punishment for something I probably shouldn’t have done in the first place." She patted Cormac's chest. "That should do it.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Cormac sauntered up to the mirror with all the self-respect of a man who knew his worth. “Hey, this isn’t half bad.” Aric watched the man turn one way, then another while he examined the outcome of his and Fynta’s hard work. With a hearty laugh, he clapped his hands. “I owe you, boss, oh shit, I need to get going. You two have fun.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Snatching his jacket, Cormac darted from the room. Jorgan heard the front door shut a moment later and turned to his wife. “I worry about you two.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Fynta laughed and went to the other side of their bed. She vanished behind it, emerging a minute later with a box from the local dry cleaners. Aric moved closer, curious about what she’d thought important enough to make the trip across town instead of using the free one on base. The flash of blue in the overhead light made his stomach tighten, then an excited growl slipped through his teeth when Fynta pulled his favorite outfit from within. “I thought we might stay home tonight and...rekindle some old memories.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>It took effort to drag his gaze from the sequined strips of fabric that had haunted his dreams since their first trip to Nar Shaddaa years ago, but Jorgan managed. The heat in Fynta’s eyes made his knees weak. “So, what do you say?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Closing the distance between them, Aric pulled his wife into a rough kiss. “You get dressed,” he breathed against her lips. “I’ll lock the door.”</p>
</div>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Family Fun</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Through stubbornness alone, Fynta has managed to squeeze everyone close to her into a single space.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Characters: Fynta Wolfe, Aric Jorgan, Shillet Jorgan, Balic Cormac, Elara Dorne, Tayl Cormac, Verin Ejnar, Keshal Vakk, Jodi Ejnar, Tranx Vakk, Zula Dun, Torian Cadera, and @kunoichi-ume Noara Starspark.<br/>Rating: G<br/>Word Count: 855</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    
<p></p><div class="">
  <p>
    <strong>Odessen<br/>
Alliance Base<br/>
Mess Hall</strong>
  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“That’s disgusting.” Shillet’s laughter rang through the abandoned mess hall when Aric and Cormac returned with supplies. Fall had arrived, and Fynta had announced that it was long past due for their family to celebrate in true Mando’a fashion. Verin, Keshal, and the baby had arrived the day before, joining their son and soon to be daughter in the Alliance for an extended visit.  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Cormac rounded the corner into the kitchen to find Fynta and Zula digging into the guts of a large gourd. Shillet sat on the counter by the serving window, face scrunched at the stringy mess dangling between the older women’s fingers, while Elara sifted sugar into a large bowl of seeds. Cormac leaned against the counter, mindful of Shillet’s swinging feet, and wrinkled his nose to match hers. “What is that?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Tradition,” Zula answered. The fiery Mandalorian youngster had made herself at home within her new family. Cormac expected her to be shy, but she’d shouldered past Tranx and locked arms with Fynta to proclaim her as an adopted aunt. Cormac and Elara had been absorbed in the wake, giving Tayl two other cousins to look up to. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Jorgan leaned through the window to flick one of Shillet’s head tresses. The Nautolan teen rolled her eyes in that way always made the grumpy Cathar laugh. “It smells awful.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Fynta tisked, lifting her hand as if to flick the goo in their direction. All three dodged with Cormac and Shillet butting heads in the middle. With a triumphant smirk, Fynta made a shooing gesture at them. “No men in the kitchen this year. Go mingle." </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>When no one moved, Fynta huffed and angled her thumb over one shoulder. "Don’t make me sick my Jedi on you.” Noara moved behind the other women, bouncing baby Jodi and making cooing noises while they observed the mess from a safe distance. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Keshal appeared out of the walk-in chiller with a pitcher of ice before Cormac could think to ask where she was. He lifted his hands in surrender when the woman lifted a brow in an all too familiar, Fynta-ish way, and slunk towards the door.  When Shillet tried to follow, Keshal clicked her tongue. “Not you, girl. Now, get your sheb’ika over here and help with the next step.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Oh come on.” Shillet flapped her arms at Jorgan, who looked to be having trouble containing his amusement. “A little help, dad?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Nope,” Fynta called. She was elbow-deep in the orange goo now and Cormac took another step away. “Someone’s got to teach you how to cook, and it isn’t him. Get over there and help Keshal.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>With the flare that only a teenager could manage, Shillet stomped back into the kitchen. Cormac saw her small arms anchor across her chest before the kitchen was lost to him. With more humor than Cormac had heard in years, Jorgan clapped him on the shoulder and steered them towards where Verin sat astride a backward chair while directing something hidden from view. “That’s no way to hold a blade. Son, teach the boy.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>When Cormac drew closer, his heart clenched with fear at finding his seven-year-old with a blade, then eased when he realized that his child wasn’t alone. Tranx sat cross-legged on the floor with Tayl cradled in his lap. His hands rested over the boy’s while they carved an intricate design into the side of the thing that had produced the guts Fynta and Zula were playing with. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“That’s better.” Verin tipped his drink towards the two. “That other hold was a good way to lose a finger, then your mom might not like me as much.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Torian offered Cormac and Jorgan a cup similar to the one that Verin held. "Tranx is a good teacher," he added. "He's good with kids, too."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"I trust him," Cormac replied, even while his stomach still fluttered with every swipe of the blade. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Being distracted by watching the boys work, Balic didn’t ask what he'd been given and was pleased to find that it was one of Torian’s specialty brews for weaker stomached aruetiise. The sweet spice of the ne'tra gal warmed away Cormac’s concerns, leaving him with the whimsy of having their entire family under one roof.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Pausing, Tayl tipped his head back to look at Tranx. “Why does it have a face?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“To scare away the bad things,” the boy answered with a grin that could have been straight off Verin’s face. Cormac wondered if Tranx’s father had been a goofball too, or if he’d inherited Verin’s knack for easy humor.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Tayl studied the face he and Tranx had created as if considering whether or not it was scary enough. Whatever his thoughts, the boy kept them to himself as he indicated to Tranx that he was ready to start cutting again. Silence settled over them as the four older men observed the next generation absorbing traditions from the past. Cormac knew that this peace wouldn’t last. There would be war again, tearing families apart and sending them into chaos. But for now, he was content to watch his son enjoy a quiet moment in peace.</p>
</div>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Happy Halloween all. Be safe!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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